


unique in all the world

by INMH



Series: hc_bingo fanfiction fills 2019 [39]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Child Abuse, Drama, Drug Use, Drugs, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Identity, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-17 10:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21053252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: It looks like Kara, it talks like Kara- but is it Kara?





	unique in all the world

_If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it’s probably a duck._  
  
This adage is simple and often true, but for now Alice finds herself wondering if it’s true for her in the here and now.  
  
Her father comes home trailed by an AX400 android that looks identical to Kara, has the same serial number as Kara (#579 102 694), walks and talks just like Kara does- but the way she smiles at Alice is polite and friendly but _distant_, the kind of smile you give a person you know you’re supposed to smile at, but you don’t really actually _know_ them well enough to totally mean it yet.  
  
This stings; it stings because Kara has always been the one totally safe and good thing in Alice’s life, and the lack of familiarity between them hurts.  
  
So Alice retreats upstairs, waiting until her father and Kara have moved away from the stairs and are going about their business before quietly descending again.  
  
Kara’s started cleaning up the trash strewn around the living room. This is another sting: Alice usually helps with this sort of thing, because Kara had long ago made a game of it. ‘Who can find the most trash to throw out’ is something they’ve done together for a while now, and that Kara has just gone ahead and started cleaning up without calling Alice down to help is a reminder that she doesn’t currently _remember_ who Alice is.  
  
_How can she not remember?_ Alice thinks as Kara takes the trash-bags outside. She knows that Kara is an android, and that androids have memories that are far easier to damage or erase than human memories, but it is still incomprehensible that Kara can look at Alice and not recognize her.  
  
It also brings up an uncomfortable possibility: _Could that happen to me?_  
  
She buries that thought deep and tries to forget it.  
  
Alice keeps her distance in the living room (well out of her father’s way- he’s smoking the red mist again, and that’s never a good sign) until Kara comes back inside and starts the dishes. It is a sight so normal that Alice can’t help but quietly creep up to the edge of the kitchen and watch Kara’s back as she cleans.  
  
_She’ll turn around and say hi to me,_ Alice thinks, even though she knows better. _She’ll turn around and ask me if I want to play a game, or if she wants me to have her read to me. She’ll know me, because Kara **knows** me._  
  
But when Kara does turn around and see Alice, she offers another sweet, friendly smile, and then goes back to the dishes.  
  
Alice is conflicted.  
  
This is clearly her Kara- but it’s also _not_ her Kara.  
  
When Kara turns on the vacuum cleaner in the living room, Alice isn’t really in the mood- but she almost hopes that if she does something special, maybe Kara will start to remember. Maybe if she does something so uniquely Alice-like that she can’t possibly be mistaken for anyone else, Kara will remember all of the time they’ve spent together and go back to her normal self.  
  
So Alice does something that she’s done a thousand times before: When the vacuum rolls her way, she jumps in front of it and hops from foot to foot, bounding back and forth to stop it from rolling any further. The vacuum’s sensors are built to stop a re-route if something’s in its way, and it can only turn from side to side helplessly when she does this. With no actual pets, it’s the closest thing Alice has to playing with a dog; and it used to be something that Kara found funny.  
  
“_Alice__!_ You better stop that right now!” Her father barks from his place on the couch, and Alice freezes before slowly stepping back and walking away to the chair in the corner. “Why is she always _pushing_ me?” Her father wonders aloud to himself.  
  
_I’m not_, Alice wants to say. She badly wants to tell him that she wants Kara to remember her, wants her to be the Kara that Alice knows and loves, and wants to do anything she can to remind her of herself.  
  
But her father won’t understand.  
  
He never does.  
  
Especially not after he’s been smoking the red mist for a while. That’s why Alice retreats so easily now: She’s become finely attuned to her father’s moods, and treads carefully in the moments when his temper rises so hard and fast. And while tempting Todd Williams’s temper might be an effective way to remind Kara of who she is, Alice trembles at the thought of her getting broken again.  
  
Still, when Kara goes outside, Alice can’t resist: She trails after her, sliding out the back door as Kara starts picking the laundry off the line and sitting down on the old tire by the stairs. _It’s been there for days,_ Alice almost tells her. _It rained yesterday. They probably have to be washed again_. But she doesn’t: Kara will know. Even if she doesn’t remember the hundreds of times she’s done this, with Alice sitting on the porch and waiting for her, she’ll know the laundry is damp and gross and needed to be washed again.  
  
When Kara turns around, she spots Alice again. _Are you following me,_ she might have teased before, a smile starting on her lips. But this isn’t her Kara, and no such teasing comes: Instead Kara walks over, kneels down in front of her- the first direct contact they’ve had. Alice doesn’t look her in the eye, focusing on her doll and trying not to make it seem like she was anxious to hear Kara speak.  
  
“You look bored,” Kara says. “Would you like to play a game?”  
  
Alice looks up, observing carefully: Kara’s tone and face still reflect that same reserved, polite kindness that any nanny or babysitter would show her. Even the way she's speaking seems strangely unnatural. So Alice doesn’t respond, unsure of what to say.  
  
When Kara realizes that she won’t be getting a response, she tries again. “Do you like playing out here?”  
  
Alice hesitates, but then gets up and makes for the door without responding again. She realizes that it’s a little cruel not to respond to Kara, that it might hurt her- but what can she say? How can Alice pretend that this is her Kara, when she’s clearly not? How exactly is she meant to handle this?  
  
The TV is still on, and her father is quiet, which is neither here nor there; sometimes Todd’s moods rear up seemingly out of nowhere, and it makes him difficult to predict. Alice is still on alert from the red mist, though- that’s always a sign of bad things to come. When she enters the living room, Alice finds the reason for the silence: Todd is no longer on the couch. She looks around at the kitchen, wondering if he’s getting a beer- but no, no, he’s not there either.  
  
_THUMP._  
  
Alice looks up.  
  
She doesn’t see her father, but she also doesn’t see _Kara._  
  
That’s what drives Alice to investigate, that familiar fear of something bad happening and needing to know. She moves towards the laundry room, and from around the doorframe she can see-  
  
Alice freezes.  
  
Her father has Kara by the throat, head and neck bent back against the shelf above the washing machine.  
  
“…makes me _nervous_.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Todd,” Kara says, tone calm even as her LED blinks a dark red.  
  
“You stay the _fuck_ out of my business!” He hisses, holding up a small packet of red crystals. “Unless you want to piss me off. You wanna piss me off?”  
  
“No, Todd.”  
  
Kara is still visibly unafraid; when Alice’s father broke her last time, she had been very afraid. She was never as stoic before as she is now. But Alice is afraid, so very afraid right up until her father finally lets her go. He leaves the room, eyeing Kara warily and taking that little packet of red crystals with him.  
  
Kara watches him go; then her eyes find Alice, peeking around the doorway. Alice, still at a loss for words and badly wanting to be away from her father and his temper, turns and walks away.  
  
_Maybe_, she considers as she crawls onto the window-seat at the front of the house, _it wouldn’t be so bad to keep Kara at arms-length._ When Kara had been broken, it had hurt so, _so_ badly- and that could have been remedied by getting Kara back whole and hale, but that isn’t what Alice has gotten. Instead she’s gotten a Kara with nothing of what made Kara…_ Kara._  
  
Alice watches out of the corner of her eye as Kara reports to Todd, acting as though he hadn’t just been threatening her in the laundry room. She’s moving upstairs to clean, and Alice considers that she needs to quickly (and subtly) get up to her room and move a few things before Kara gets there. There are drawings in her tent that she needs to lock away in her music-box.  
  
It’s better if Kara doesn’t see them.  
  
Because if she doesn’t remember how she was broken now, she sure will once she sees them.  
  
Before she can slip away, however, Kara comes over to the window and kneels down again. She’s starting to show persistence: She cottoned on to how uneasy Alice is and wants to win her over. There’s a part of Alice that appreciates the effort, but nonetheless is still bothered by it.  
  
It’s not Kara’s fault.  
  
She didn’t _choose_ to get broken, after all.  
  
“That’s a pretty toy,” Kara remarks with a smile that seems a little warmer than the ones she’s given Alice before. “What’s its name?”  
  
Alice almost physically flinches. Her doll is a small, stuffed fox, and his name is Antoine; for Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, author of _The Little Prince_. Kara should know this better than anyone, since she was the one who suggested the name when Todd had bought Alice the toy. They had read that book so many times… Does Kara even remember the plot now? Does she even remember the fox?  
  
“_To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world…_”  
  
She probably does not remember the fox.  
  
And that hurts, even if it’s not Kara’s fault.  
  
Alice stays quiet, and eventually Kara goes upstairs.  
  
She waits a few minutes, and then carefully ascends the staircase as well. Kara is cleaning her father’s room, and doesn’t seem to notice as Alice passes by. When she gets to her room, Alice shuts the door behind her and scrambles to pick up the drawings. She opens her music-box and carefully tucks them inside, under the photo and the four-leaf clover that Kara found for her last April.  
  
“They’re good luck,” Kara had said with a smile.  
_  
I should have let her keep it,_ Alice considers. Maybe the luck would have stopped Kara from being broken so badly.  
  
She tucks the key into her pocket, and waits for Kara to come in.  
  
But Kara doesn’t come, and after twenty minutes pass Alice considers that maybe she isn’t coming; maybe she’s worried about spooking Alice, or maybe she’s just finished cleaning the other rooms and is about to start dinner. Eventually, Alice hesitantly lies down on the floor and returns to _Alice in Wonderland,_ flipping back open to where she’d left off.  
_  
“Have you guessed the riddle yet?” the Hatter said, turning to Alice again.  
  
“No, I give it up,” Alice replied: “What’s the answer?”  
  
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said the Hatter._  
  
She had been reading it with Kara, and has barely made any progress since she was broken.  
  
It just isn’t the same.  
  
Alice has been reading for a few minutes when suddenly, the door opens- no knock, no greeting, just opens; her head jerks up, and there’s Kara opening the door. Startled, Alice scrambles away from the book and retreats to her tent. If Kara is bothered by this display of wariness, she gives no sign.  
  
“I just want to tidy up your room a little. I only need two minutes: Is that okay, Alice?”  
  
Alice doesn’t respond, so Kara seems to take it as assent.  
  
She steps into the room and kneels down to examine the book. She marks the page with her thumb and flips it to see the cover. “Alice in Wonderland.” Kara turns and smiles at Alice. “Of course.”  
  
Alice says nothing. The situation is ironic, to be sure, but _The Little Prince_ is her favorite book, not _Alice in Wonderland_. Her Kara knew that.  
  
Kara moves about the room, making good on her promise to be quick. She opens the window, she makes the bed, and then she looks at the books high up on the shelf and remarks, “It seems you like reading.”  
  
Of course Alice likes reading. What else is there to do? She doesn’t go to school, and she can only play so many games and watch so many videos on her tablet before she gets bored. Reading takes more time and concentration. Alice’s Kara had understood that, and that was why they had been so close: Kara had been Alice’s only friend.  
  
When she’s done cleaning, Kara tries one more time to talk, kneeling in front of the tent and smiling gently. “I’m sure we used to be friends before I was reset,” Kara says. “Maybe we can be friends again.”  
_  
Maybe_.  
  
Alice’s heart is heavy. Even if they do become friends again, it won’t be quite the same as it had been before. So much of their time together is just… _Gone_ for Kara now. Their very first meeting is gone; the times she had protected Alice from her father is gone; the stories they’d read, the movies they’d watched, the conversations they’d had…  
  
…All gone.  
  
But still, Alice can’t let go.  
  
Because it _is_ Kara, even if it’s… Not _quite_ Kara.  
  
“Your father said _you_ chose my name.” Alice looks up, surprised. Kara misinterprets the confusion. “Kara? It’s nice. How did you choose it?”  
  
Alice hadn’t chosen it.  
  
Kara had told her the name when they had first met, when her father had left them alone and told Alice to pick whatever name for the new android she wanted. “You can name me whatever you want,” Kara had said before leaning in closer and whispering, “But I already have one, if you want to call me that.”  
  
“What is it?” Alice had whispered back.  
  
She had leaned in close to Alice’s ear and said very, very softly:  
  
“_Kara._”  
  
But androids weren’t supposed to choose their own names, and so Alice had to pretend that she had come up with it all on her own.  
  
Surely Kara had been reset before being sold to Todd.  
  
So how had she remembered her name, and why doesn’t she remember it now?  
  
“You should tell me about yourself: What you like to do, where you like to go, your favorite foods. That would _really_ help me.”  
_  
You already know those things_, Alice thinks mournfully. _Or you did._  
_  
Why_ did Todd have to go and break Kara?  
  
Of all the painful things he’d ever done to Alice, why had he taken the _one_ person Alice had in all the world who had known her best?  
  
“You’re very quiet,” Kara observes when Alice, once again, fails to speak to her. It occurs to Alice that she hasn’t said a single word to Kara since she’s come home; she probably doesn’t even remember what Alice’s voice sounds like. “I hope I don’t scare you.”  
_  
Scare me?_  
  
No. Alice isn’t scared; the person she’s closest to in the world was so broken beyond repair in the act of protecting her, that Kara went away and came back a stranger that had to be told Alice’s name and likes and dislikes and spoke to her like they had never met before.  
  
Alice isn’t frightened of Kara: She’s heartbroken at the sight of her.  
  
In that moment, Alice makes a decision: She quickly crawls out from the tent, moving past Kara- and then she hesitates, unsure. If it works, Kara will remember something truly, _truly_ awful, and Alice would never want to hurt her deliberately. It seems even meaner than deliberately failing to answer Kara’s questions, but it’s the last thing she can think of that might make Kara remember- and in remembering, maybe she’ll be herself again.  
  
And Alice will give _anything_ for that.  
  
Kara is staring at her, probably confused at Alice’s continued stand-offish behavior. The confusion increases when Alice pulls her key from her pocket and presses it into Kara’s hand, before turning and bolting out of her room. Even if Kara doesn’t really _remember_ what happened, Alice still doesn’t want to be around to answer the inevitable questions she’ll get.  
  
The key opens her music-box.  
  
Inside, at the top of the pile, Kara will find a four-leaf clover.  
  
Alice hopes vainly that that might be enough to do it: One little piece to unlock a whole bunch of memories, without any pain.  
  
But if not, Kara will go deeper and see the picture.  
  
“Sometimes I pretend she’s my sister,” Alice had whispered to Kara once before bed, tapping Todd’s other daughter. “She looks nice. When daddy talks about her, he talks about how sweet she was. I wouldn’t mind a big sister.”  
  
Kara had smiled. “I’d like to think I do that for you.”  
  
Alice had paused, thinking, and then shook her head. “No. You’re more like my mom.”  
  
Kara had seemed taken aback.  
  
But when she’d kissed Alice’s forehead goodnight, it had lingered in a tender way.  
  
But last in Alice’s box, Kara will see the drawings.  
  
She will know how she was broken, the worst way Alice’s father had ever broken her while she’d lived under their roof. She will come to understand why Alice is so reserved towards her, and that she used to be a very different Kara.  
  
And hopefully, she will understand:  
  
She is Kara, but she is not Alice’s Kara.  
  
But with time, maybe she can be.  
  
-End

**Author's Note:**

> [Sighs] That _The Little Prince_ quote fucks me up every time, bro.


End file.
